


Shout it From the Rooftops

by Tiili97



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I seriously do not think I could have made it more fluffy if i tried, Merrill as Inquisitor, Merrill being a competent leader, Reunion Fluff, Very fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiili97/pseuds/Tiili97
Summary: Merrill has done many impossible things as Inquisitor. Dealing with Solas is one of them. Luckily, a certain pirate got her back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vulpineRaconteur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/gifts).



 

Merrill had done many impossible things in the last year. 

She had walked alive from the fade, albeit without her memory. 

She travelled to the future with an Altus mage who, while a darling, was woefully ignorant of elven magic. 

She had faced an archdemon and a magister of old. 

She had saved an empress and united the people of Thedas (well, a part of it anyway) in a way not seen since the first blight.

 

Just today, she had organized a peace meeting between Orlais and Ferelden for the first time in decades. 

She had rooted out Venatori in the Western Approach, stopping vile rituals from taking place. 

She had met with aristocrats and farmers, settled twists and filled out reports. 

She did all of this with a smile, knowing it was all for a good cause.

 

But this was simply one step too far.

 

“The ignorance of the Dalish stretches further than you could ever understand, dear girl. Your pride blinds your vision.”

 

“We take pride in our culture and heritage, unlike you, Solas. You spit on other elves without acknowledging our struggle!" 

 

Merrill's ever-present smile was strained, fighting hard not to lose her cool. Just like Marethari, Solas considered an argument won the moment his opponent lost their grip on their emotions. 

The man himself was, as ever, unshakeable. A light sneer was the only expression on his face as he replied.

"a culture you have no knowledge of, as - "

 

"Enough" Merrill interrupted him before he could continue the well-worn argument. She wouldn’t hear another word of it.

 

Her voice was shivering with emotion. "How dare you shame us for what we have reclaimed? For the knowledge scraped together after centuries of darkness and slavery? You might walk the roads of Arlathan each night, but to the rest of us, it is gone. Your arrogance and selfishness is befitting of the Dread Wolf himself!"

 

She turned and left before he could answer her outburst with yet another sneering rebuttal. May the Dread Wolf take the man! Merrill had come to ask him of his fade magic, trying to learn more of this rare specialization - and as always, he had thrown her curiosity right back in her face.

The man’s knowledge of elven history and magic was far beyond even her own understanding, and she knew that she was far more knowledgeable than most dalish thanks to her study of the eluvian. 

But there was no reason to be so rude about it!

 

If only Isabela was here. She would crack a joke and buy her a drink, and the next morning Solas would wake up to his smallclothes tied to the highest point in the castle. 

 

But no: Isabela was off fighting Venatori in the Waking sea. She was where she belonged – out on the sea, free and happy. 

Merrill wouldn’t take that away from her, no matter how much she missed her. Between Merrill’s duties as Inquisitor and Isabela’s longing for the sea, there was simply little time for such banalities as love.

 

Merrill felt a strong urge to go bury herself in the library to work off some steam, but there was still work to be done. 

Much like any clan, there was always something that needed to be seen to. If it wasn’t a dispute between two clanmates over who had what guard at night, it was Orlesian nobles clamoring for the Inquisitions favor without actually showing support for an elvhen heathen.

It was with this in mind that she crossed the great hall, head held high and her anger almost visible on her face. 

The nobles put their noses up at her, but parted before her. They did not respect her, that she knew – but they respected her position and her power.

 

The Inquisitor’s chair loomed foreboding at the head of the great hall, and Merrill didn’t look at it as she walked towards the meeting room. She disliked having to judge people. 

It made her feel like a bully, but apparently enough people trusted her council to let her decide the fate of many men and women. 

She tried to be as nice as possible.

 

Caught up in these thoughts, Merrill blinked as the door she opened blinded her with the bright afternoon sun. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. 

Josephine had told her that leaving yarn trailing after her wasn’t befitting an Inquisitor, so this sort of thing was common. 

 

She had ended up in Skyhold’s garden – a green oasis, where the heat of the day lingered much longer than it truly should. 

It was full of people as always: working in the newly expanded herb garden, walking, talking, some appearing deep in thought or prayer.

 

Merrill breathed in the warm air and immediately felt more at ease. Maybe the wrong turn had been a good thing, after all. Surely, her work could wait a bit.

She wandered through the garden, making sure to avoid eye contact with Mother Giselle. The woman was sweet, but her attempts to convert Merrill to her faith had been getting more insistent. 

Instead, she made her way towards Morrigan and Kieran, the two out to enjoy the sunshine as always. She smiled and waved at them – Kieran replied in kind, and Morrigan nodded imperiously. 

 

She and Morrigan had a rocky start, but once she realized her lover – and Kieran’s father – was her friend Ismael from her home clan, well. They were almost like kin, weren’t they?

“How are you, Lady Morrigan? Kieran?” She chirped, joining them in the small pavilion that overlooked the garden. 

 

Kieran smiled.

“I have been playing with Cole. He says I sound funny, even when I’m not speaking. Like a hundred voices speaking at once. He’s nice though. We found some kittens in the stable!”

 

Merrill cooed, nodding along. Kieran sounded serious even when he was speaking about the kittens and their mother. Merrill didn’t know if it was because of the old god soul in his body, or something he had gotten from his parents. Morrigan certainly seemed serious most of the time, and Ismael – well. The man was the very definition of deadpan growing up. Merrill hardly thought a blight had changed it.

 

Once Kieran had described how he and Cole had gotten the kittens somewhere safely out of the way of the horses, he quieted, seemingly content with what he had shared. Morrigan’s almost-smile was fond.

 

“I am glad Cole is here to look after him on days like this. I had some… business that required a bit of extra time.” Merrill didn’t know what business meant, and it was one thing she was quite certain she didn’t want to know. 

“Was there anything you wanted to know?” Morrigan asked, clearly eager for something to speak about.

Indeed, Merrill had many questions. Morrigan had knowledge about the oddest things, while she did sometimes brag of more than she actually knew. Merrill had talked enough about elven history for today, and instead asked about the Chasind clan Morrigan had grown up near. They were a people she had never been in contact with during her time in the clan, and she was curious about them. Her journeys as Inquisitor had included a few brushes with them, and she was eager to learn more next time.

 

They spoke for quite a while, and only when Kieran started yawning did Morrigan excuse them. Merrill waved after them and started moving towards her own chambers. Thoughts of work nagged her heels but she promised herself to do double the amount tomorrow. Tonight, she would rest. So there.

Merrill took the stairs slowly, working her way past building equipment and boards piled on the catwalk leading up the tower. Josephine had wanted to get it done as soon as possible, but Merrill had insisted other parts of the castle required more immediate restoration. 

She did not mind the occasional breeze that made its way into the tower, but rather enjoyed it.

 

She soon stepped through the doors to her chamber, immediately set on edge as she did. The room was too warm to have been left alone all day, and was that – humming?

Warily, she stepped up the last, small staircase, magic crackling around her fingers, and saw  -

“Isabela!”

 

Isabela laughed and caught the High Inquisitor as she took a running leap into the pirate’s arms. Merrill closed her eyes against the tears she could feel coming. She couldn’t stop talking, hardly believing Isabela would still be there once she opened her eyes again.

“When did you get back? Have you been home long, oh, have you been waiting for me? How was your journey, it’s such a long way to the Waking Sea, I was so worried – “

Isabela kissed her soundly, only letting up when the only sound Merrill could produce was a strained whimper. Slowly, she opened her eyes again and set her feet on the floor, still clinging tight to her lover. Isabela’s grin was wide and fond.

 

“I just got back this afternoon, kitten, when you were still in your meeting room. I figured I’d wait here and make it a special evening. The Venatori are routed for now – they’ll think twice before haunting the Waking sea again.” 

 

Merrill kissed her this time, long and sweet. 

“I’ve missed you, vhenan.” She whispered once they parted. It was hard to see, but a slight blush spread on Isabela’s face.

 

“It’s been lonely without you in my bed, kitten.” She replied, and Merrill smiled. Isabela had a hard time with domesticity and saying her feelings out loud, but she was trying, and it was all Merrill could want. 

 

Another kiss stretched on before Isabela broke it with a sigh.

“Not that this isn’t lovely, but I’ve prepared some things. What do you say we enjoy them?”

 

Merrill looked around for the first time since entering the room. There was a big fire going in the fireplace, warming up the whole room. A bathtub stood by it, water steaming lightly in the slight breeze coming in from the half-opened balcony doors. On a table Isabela must have carried up stood several platters of food – fruits, bread, cheese and cold cuts, food that could be eaten with little finesse. A bottle of cider stood in a bucket full of ice, and on her desk was…

 

“Isabela, why are there paintbrushes on my desk?” Isabela chuckled, as if she had just pulled a particularly good prank.

 

“Well, a little bird whispered in my ear that a certain elf had been a colossal prick to you. I figured it was only fair if I, say, stole all his precious paintbrushes and spent a lovely evening with you throwing them off the balcony.”

 

Merrill stood chock-still for a moment before giggling, chuckling, hugging Isabela even tighter while she gasped for breath in between bright bouts of laughter. Isabela laughed along with her, picking her up and twirling her around.

 

Once her laughter had tapered off into the occasional giggle, Isabela put her down and pulled her close enough to rest their foreheads together.

“I’m glad to be back, kitten. Now, what do you think I’ll be able to hit the top of the mage tower from here?” 

**Author's Note:**

> No brushes were harmed in the making of this fic. I hope you like it, vulpine! I would have liked to write this into a proper story, showing Merrill becoming more comfortable with her powers both magical and political, the ups and downs of her and Isabela's relationship, more of Solas getting served... Oh well. It is what it is.


End file.
